The Captain's Knife
by storybooksage
Summary: Elda is an agent for shield. Her specialty is rescuing children from human traffickers, butwhen she is injured she is reassigned to Helping Captain Rogers adapt to modern life. She is determined to spend as little amout of time with him but when she hears him crying in the middle of the night her heart softens to his pain. Lots of Fluff! Rated M for abuse and Torture.
1. Chapter 1

The woman rolled on the filthy wood floor to silence her fall through the window. She held her breath for several seconds listening for any sign that she had been detected. Above her head she still heard the angry shouting in taiwanese and several children sobbing and wimpering. A woman shouted and a thud echoed in the room. The childrens' cries faded almost instantly.

The intruder dropped her large hat, empty purse and disposable camera. So gently that she didnt even leave shoe prints in the dust, she made her way to the door leading to the stairs. Testing each step before accending was always tricky but years of experience had taught her that stepping as close to the wall and as close to the edge as possible made the least took nearly a minute to reach the top and the whole time she could hear several voices shouting out ever increasing numbers. It made her sick.

At the top of the stairs a hallway lead her to the room she was searching for. Her lip curled and she straightened her shoulders. The small group of people snapped around and stared at the sound of her clearing throat. "I hope I'm not interupting." She piped in perfect taiwanese. "I do hate to be a bother but would you all mind dropping dead and allowing me to rescue these children?"

He voice was laced with honey and it took the men in front of her a moment to realize what was happening. That minute was all she needed. By the time any of them moved three were lying on the floor in pools of their own blood, knives sticking out of the hallow of their collar bones.

The woman was fast and surprisingly agile for wearing flipflops and jeans. She dropped and rolled to avoid being peppered with bullets. Another knife spun across the room and the gunman was dead before he hit the ground.

The knife weilding woman straightened back up and stared down the other men. Her eyes dared them to make a move and much to her disgust one of them did. The shortest of the group reached into his breast pocket and pulled out several bundles of Taiwan dollars, "You take." He stuttered in broken Taiwanese, "We go."

"Oh I don't think so." The woman now spoke in English, "I'm going to give you a choice;" She translated her words back into the native tongue, "you can submit to being arrested and my people will take you to jail where you will spend the rest of you lives. But only if you give us all of the names of your associates and where I can find them." She watched as three of the seven men glared at her an began to protest. "Or," she waited for them to be silent, "I will kill you now and not loose a night of sleep over your bloodied carcasses."

No surprise that all of the men readily chose imprisonment over death. Waisting no time, the woman fastened electronic handcuffs to them and the woman who was standing with the dozen children. A quick call on her cell and she turned her back on the adults and gave her full attention to the children.

"Do all of you speak taiwanese?" The children nodded. "Good. I have called my friends and they are going to pick you up and take you to a safe place were men and women like that wil never be able to hurt you." She knelt infront of a small boy and tilted his face up to hers so she could see the welted handprint on his cheek. "Did the woman hit you?" The boy nodded.

An angry fire burned in her chest and she stood and stalked toward the woman who began scooting backward, "Do you enjoy striking children?" The fire in her eyes could have killed the woman in front of her, but she would not grant her such mercy. Instead she grabbed the collar of her cotton shirt and struck her hard across the cheek leaving a print identical to the boy's. "You are all lucky and should be grateful that I am allowing you to live." She sneered at the cowering adults, "You are lucky I answer to a higher power or you would all be dead. I let you live only so that I can catch others like you and execute them. If you are lucky enough to be granted a phone call, I would suggest you warn everyone you know to hide from me. I have no quams about killing monsters. I am The Child's Knife and I exact judgment for the innocents."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Hey guys here's chapter two! I know that there is no sign of our cute caped crusaders but they will be here soon. I realize that I didn't post a summary with my first chapter like I intended.

This story begins right before Iron Man but I raised Steve Rogers from the ice early.

This story is mostly cannon (as much as it can be adding a new character), however, I am disregarding several small plot detail which I have no doubt you will notice as you read further on. This will slowly cause the story to deviate more and more. But I'll try to stay as accurate to the movies as possible. However, I will be ignoring 'Agents of Shield' for the most part , but i will borrow a few ideas from the show.

As much as I wish I owned the exceptionally gorgeous Captain America and the morosly sexy Loki, god of trickery, i am only borrowing all marvel characters and their universe so that my character, Griselda Wentworth (aka The Child's Knife), has a place to live.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review!

Hugs and kisses,

Storybooksage

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The woman who had introduced her self as 'The Child's Knife' had untied the children's' hands and feet and checked all of their immediately visible wounds. Many of them now had bandages and wraps on their arms and legs and the young boy who had been struck had a cold compress on his cheek. Upon inspection of the building the woman discovered that the adults had feasted not long ago. The children had all been given crackers and water from the other room where the 'guests' had eaten before the auction. The guests-turned-prisoners sat huddled in a corner and the dead bodies of the Child's Knife's victims lay in front of them the knives removed from their necks and resheathed on the woman's belt. No one had dared to speak to or even look at the woman after she had almost slapped the madam unconscious. The offensive excuse for a caretaker was gently rubbing her cheek and mumbling about the crazy daughter of a demon. Not only did she have a throng of welts but her left eye was turning a nasty shade of purple.

The heroine sat on the window sill where she could keep an eye on both groups and watch for her 'friends'. Her black wig was itching like crazy but she refused to scratch it. Her eyelids and nose were sweating underneath the prosthetics and she was more than ready to remove the tight necklace that cause her voice to sound higher and scratchier than her natural. Even though the monsters were incapacitated she still didn't remove her disguise. Not while it was possible they could describe her to her still free enemies. Out in the street three black government issue suburbans pulled up outside the building. The Child's Knife grinned joyously at the children, "Those are my friends. We are going to take you to the country where you will be free." She smiled half to herself thinking about the commune like farm where the children would grow up. They would be protected from all harm but would still be educated and given working skills for when they grew up.

A man in a tailored suit entered the room and crossed to the woman. "Hello, Knife," his face was somber but his green eyes were kind, "I trust that all of the children have survived?"

She stood before him her back straight and her feet shoulder length apart. "Yes sir." Her voice was professional and commanding despite calling the man 'sir'. "Unfortunately I had a bit of trouble with the hostiles." She glanced at the bloodied bodies. "They will need processed and taken to one of the holding facilities. The children are in need of medical and hygienic care. Take them to the nearest medical facility and then meet me at the safe house."

She turned to stride out of the room when a shout behind her caused her to look at the adults. The man who had offered her the money stood up and was pointing a gun at her. She barely had time to leap to the side before he fired. Half angry that he had tried anything and half annoyed that she hadn't searched him, she jumped to her feet and threw a knife at him. It buried itself up to the hilt in his eye and he dropped to the ground.

She waited for someone else to even twitch, a thin dagger in each fist. For what seemed like forever no one moved, no one breathed, no one even blinked. Foot steps pounded up the stairs and half a dozen agents burst in the room carrying fully automatic weapons ready to spray the room if need be.

Knife replaced the daggers in her hands to her belt and decided to leave the one in the eyeball of the shooter, it wasn't worth retrieving. One of the agents glanced at her, his eyes wide in a silent question. Part of her wanted to order them to shoot the other seven adults but a bigger more logical part of her knew that she needed the information they had.

"Arrest them and take them to the boat." The guards nodded and hauled the remaining men and the madam to their feet and half lead half dragged them to the door, "One more thing," she stalked forward and grabbed the woman's hand,

"Tell everyone who asks that the Child's Knife is not merciful." She pressed her ring into the back of the madam's hand. The madam howled in pain, jerked back her hand and stared at the burn in the shape of a knife. "I leave you with this mark not because i need to punish you but to define to the other women in the prison that you abuse children. They will punish you."

By then the other agents were getting antsy and were ready to haul them down stairs. She nodded, dismissing them and they hauled the traffickers away. "Knife," the man behind her crossed his arms and his eyes flickered with frustration, "you can't mark the prisoners in front of the other agents. If this gets back to the director..."

"It wont get back because these agents were hand picked by me to keep my secrets and follow my orders." She turned to stomp down the stairs but her leg collapsed underneath her. She looked at it: a hole in her jeans revealed that she had not dodged the bullet as she had originally thought. Dark red blood had soaked the blue material all the way from her thigh to down below her knee. "Damn." She whispered right before passing out.

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Thanks for reading! I will try to post a new story every Sabbath from now on. Have a great week!

I am open to all constructive criticisms, tips, and suggestions. Be nice. But please review! :*


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: Hey guys!

Thank you for the reviews and favorites! I'm so excited that people are reading my work!

Some people have commented that she's like Black Widow. While I do adore Natasha Romanoff, I had and still have no intention of using her as a basis of my character. She deserves better than being copied by my inadequate imagination. But thank you to all who kindly complemented my character with the comparison.

I do not own Black Widow nor any other part of the Marvel universe. Nor do I receive any compensation for this story. If I did I wouldn't be trying to pay off student loans.

Don't forget to review at the end of the chapter!

Hugs and kisses!

Storybooksage

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Her head fuzzed and her vision unfocused like a cheap camera. She had a vague feeling of her leg throbbing and something wound tight around it. She forced her eyes open and looked through the wobbly fog at the bulky bump under the blanket that was her leg.

She fumbled with the light material before throwing it to the foot of the hospital bed. She reached forward and gingerly touched the tightly wound wraps on her thigh. They had blotches of red where her blood had begun soaking through. She blinked several times in an attempt to clear her head and glanced again at her leg but the bandage was still there.

At the end of her bed was a medical chart. Ignoring the pain she twisted her body so she could snatch it off the table before flopping back against the pillow. Above her head the heart monitor's beeping sped up for a second before resuming it's steady metronoming. She opened the chart and stared down the report, commanding it to change it's mind. Right femur shattered, several muscles torn, and ligaments and tendons snapped. A surgery had reattached the muscles and sinew back together but the bone would need to be iced until the swelling went down and then her leg would be casted.

"Oh that's just perfect." She halfheartedly threw the clip hoard at the wall. It missed by several feet.

Of course no one was there to witness her frustration so she took the opportunity to survey the room. She was definitely at one of the facilities. One of the windows showed the New York skyline as if she were looking north but what should have been the south facing window showed the skyline from an angle facing east. Screens. She was underground somewhere. Her room was sterile but not bland; the medical equipment was tucked away in cupboards, scenic pictures hung on the wall, a soft rug was spread on the floor, and a vase of exotic flowers adorned a table next to her elbow.

A note peaked out from between a tiger lily and a yellow orchid. She drew it away from the sweet smelling petals and unsealed the envelope. "Hey Elda, I'm sorry that you got shot. I know you'll be back kicking in the heads of child traffickers soon. But in the mean time please relax and don't cause too much trouble for the Director. Once again I'm sorry, sincerely, Your Favorite Supervisor." She smiled at the note and sealed it back in the envelope just as the door pushed open.

"Agent Wentworth, how are you feeling?" The tall man at the door looked down at her, his dark brown eye always seemed to bore into her thoughts. Most people looked away at his scrutiny but she forced herself to return his look, avoiding the eye patch. "You gave us quite a shock, injuring yourself like that. We didn't know you were foolish enough to get shot. It's almost like you did it on purpose. But I think it was negligence. You insist on making stupid decisions in the field and running on emotion instead of strategy." She kept her mouth shut knowing it was the better option at the moment. "It's going to take you a while to physically recover. I've had you temporarily reassigned."

"Sir, you can't take me out of the field. I'm the best at what I do." So much for silence is golden. "No one else will put as much dedication and hard work into this as I do." Her voice teetered dangerously between conniving and whining. "Who is replacing me?"

"Agent Smith."

"What?!" Elda shrieked, "The driver? He's an idiot and he doesn't have to motivation to do whatever it takes."

"He follows orders and communicates with the team." Fury raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

Her eyes narrowed at her boss "I do follow orders. I thought we were going in to a holding house and only a madam was there. I was given bad information." This had happened to her before. "Maybe you should have a conversation with your analyst put him on leave."

"Wentworth..." His voice warned her to shut up.

"Don't." She rose her hand to silence him. She had learned long ago that if she took charge of a situation she almost always got her way. "I refuse to be taken off duty. I can't work behind a desk all day I need action." The wine was gone replaced by a controlled fierceness that would cower any normal man.

Unfortunately Director Fury was far from normal. "You don't have a choice. You can take the new assignment or you can be found wandering around Canada with no memory and a bus ticket to Malibu."

"The program will continue if I accept the assignment?" She still spoke through clenched teeth but her voice was a bit calmer and her shoulders relaxed.

"It will continue as long as it has funding." Fury knew that the funding would never run out even if the economy crashed.

He reached into his brief case and handed her a tablet. He sat in the chair next to the bed and watched as she turned the tablet on and read over the confidential documents. As she read through the files her body language changed from confrontational to interested. She raised an eyebrow at the picture. "I heard rumors that you found him up north." She turned a virtual page, "I also know that he's irreplaceable to us. But what am I supposed to do?"

The Director took the tablet and placed it next to the other secrets, "As I'm sure you know, he has a bit of catching up to do." He stood back up, "I need you to help integrate him."

Her lip would have curled had she not been so shocked, "You want me to baby sit some glorified lab rat with a pretty face?" Her voice remained calm but indignation brewed under the surface barely recognizable except for the way she gripped the blanket. "How am i even supposed to help him? I can't even teach people who are middle aged how to use a microwave. How am i supposed to teach father time to be useful to us other than as a prototype?"

With out saying anything he balanced the brief case on the bed next to her uninjured leg. Then he was gone and Elda was left alone with the assignment she didn't want.

She opened the brief case and pulled out the manila envelope that had her fake identifications inside. She dumped them in her lap and smiled at her fake ID, twenty-one, they had made her two years younger.

The address underneath her birthday caught her eye, 'Thirty-eight sixty-five Baltic Rd, Apartment 12." She scrambled for the tablet and flipped through several screens till she found it. 'Thirty-eight sixty-five Baltic Rd, Apartment 12.'

A string of curse words escaped her lips. Not only were they living in the same building but from the looks of it they were supposed to share an apartment.

No way in hell was she moving in with Captain America.

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Author's Note:

Oooo it looks like our heroine isn't happy about being Captain Cuteness' roomie. Personally I wouldn't be complaining if i were given that assignment. But alas I was not bestowed that great honor.

Please let me know what you guys think so far! I love a good critique.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note:

I feel that i must apologize for any confusion involving Elda's age. I wasn't calculating the math correctly. I have since changed her age to twenty three. I am sorry for the confusion. Thank you RoxanneRay for your review.

As always enjoy reading and I will enjoy your reviews.

Lots of Love

Storybooksage

Ps. If I owned Captain American I would be living in a castle somewhere on the coast of Scotland. Unfortunatelly, he is not mine and as a result my castle is merely fiction.

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Elda stepped out from behind the tree, her knife leaving her hand before she could see her opponent. The second knife was more accurate; it pierced through the leather coat of the man with the sword.

He stumbled back at the force. Before recovering and pulling the stiletto out of his heart and the other out of his shoulder. "You are learning quickly, Griselda." His heart-breaking, brain-turning-to-mush smile spread across his well shaped face. "I can see that the student is surpassing the teacher." His gorgeous green eyes sparkled with admiration and pride, "You are turning into a strong and beautiful warrior." He tucked a loose strand of Elda's bleach blonde hair behind her ear, "You will make a formidable enemy someday."

He kissed her forhead just as the wind picked up speed. "I am due back in my own land." His fingers trailed down her arm leaving goosebumps in their wake, "I will meet you here next Sunday." He brought her hand to his lips.

"No!" Elda sat up in the hospital bed and wimpered sharply at the pain in her leg. She wiped her hands down her face, smearing sweat and tears. The room was suddenly too cold and the bed too lumpy. The light from the virtual window told her that dawn was approaching and the clock on the wall confirmed the early hour.

The door silently swung open and a pleasant looking woman peaked into the room. "Hello Agent Wentworth, how did you sleep?" The question was a rhetorical pleasantry, the monitors would have told her exactly how Elda had slept. "We are prepping your cast now if you are ready."

"Do I have a choice?"

Several minutes later she was stretched on a flat metal table. A large machine moved around her leg. She couldn't see what it was doing but the doctor had given her a small book detailing the surgery.

The machine was finding every piece of bone and fitting it in place like a puzzle. In between every sliver and in the spaces where fragments were missing, a strong glucose based substance worked as a bonder and filler. It would hold the bones in place untill they healed and then it woukd melt into her bloodstream the same way sugar from candy would.

The same glucose substance would also be wrapped around her bone, working as a cast underneath the muscle and skin. Casting a bone like this provided a quicker, gentler healing process and allowed her to perform normal functions without having to work around a bulky cast.

Once the bone was sufficiently set the robotic doctor would reattach the muscles, tendons, blood vessels, and skin almost flawlessly. Anyone looking at her leg, even hours after her surgery, would never notice that her skin had been opened nearly six inches. Even if they knew to look for it, only a very faint, thin line would betray any scar tissue. But her body would soon heal that too.

The local anesthesia seemed to be affecting her head and the surgery seemed to be taking a long time. Elda's eyes fluttered closed and the world faded fron existance.

"Miss Griselda, you really shouldn't lay in the sun for so long." The silky voice purred just outside her line of vision, "You'll blemish your flawless skin."

Her eyes shot open and she found herself safely tucked into bed in her S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital room. She hadn't thought about that green menace in over two years and now he was showing up in her dreams twice in the same day.

Elda breathed in deeply and forced her mind to go blank. She forgot who she was, where she was, and why she was there. She pulled up all memories involving him and threw them into her mental incinerator. Removing them from her mind. She would not dwell on it again.

When she finally breathed out and opened her eyes, her focus had shifted to the mission at hand. She slipped her legs over the side of the bed, testing her weight and finding that she felt little pain where she had been injured. The briefcase that Director Fury had given her has been stored in a cupbored next to the bathroom.

Upon seein the door Elda suddenly realized that she had not used the facilities since she had left for her mission three days ago. A tug on her uninjured thigh caused her to look down at the clear tube peaking out from underneath her hospital gown and connecting her to a plastic bag hooked to her bed. A catheter.

Sever options on how to deal with this inconvenient situation battled until the least offensive and embarrassing won. Sitting back on the bed she paged the nurse with the big red button on her bed. Of course it was a male nurse that answered her call.

Doing her best not to blush or stammer, Elda looked him straight in the eye and glared, "If you don't mind, I believe that I am well enough to use the restroom on my own." She clenched her jaw and spat out the next sentence, "I would appreciate the catheter removed at once as I don't require it anymore."

To his credit he completed the procedure in the most civil and professional manner possible and had left her room in less than five minutes. She however had been highly embarrassed at having him looking up her gown to remove the infernal device from her bladder. Her jaw was still clenched as she ducked into the bathroom to enjoy control over her own body functions.

A long relaxing shower later found her sitting cross legged on the bed. She was wrapped in a warm fleece house coat over flannel pajamas with her kitty slippers warming her toes. The shower has helped clear her mind, and while she was not happy about the details of her assignment she reasoned that she could suffer through a month. By then she would be completely healed, her leg as good as new and her mind refocused.

As she reread through her cover story she realized that pieces of her identity would be very beneficial. Being twenty one (Fury could have just as easily aged her at eighteen) meant she could buy alcohol- not that she would be able to get drunk- and her 'job' as an online tech analyst would provide her with a rather comfortable budget as well as an explanation of why she never seemed to actually go to work. Her cover name, Gabriella, was close enough to her own name that getting used to it would be simple.

She had never gone under cover before, not with a full identity. She was used to wearing disguises and introducing herself as her 'alter-ego' but this was a whole new level. Luckily the cover story was vague on most of her background to allow her to add some truth of her past to make her lie more believable. Apparently Father Time knew about her real identity but he had secrets he needed protecting too so he wasn't likely to spill hers.

A knock on the door pulled her away from the documents. "Hello again, Agent Wentworth." The doctor smiled at her, "Your car will be here soon so you may want to change into something you'll want to be seen in."

Elda slugged off the bed and traded her comfy lounge clothes for loose fitting jeans and a basic t-shirt. She left the pajamas on the floor as well as the slippers she had upgraded to sneakers; whichever S.H.I.E.L.D. intern was assisting her would deliver them, along with the rest of her personal belongings, to her new apartment.

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As always thoughts and suggestions are encouraged.

Don't forget to watch the super bowl Sunday. Go Hawks! :p


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note:

Greetings Earthlings!

I come in peace. And with a gift, a new chapter! I'm super excited about this one! We finally get to meet the captain. Yay! *confetti*

In case anyone was wondering, no, I do not own Captain america or anything else you recognize.

Don't forget to review!

Thanks

Storybooksage

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The Captain casually drummed his fingers on the back of his book, he had never gotten to finish Treasure Island and he was taking advantage of the quiet hours of the morning to do just that.

A firm knock on the front door of his apartment drew him off of the ship and into the twenty first century. He pushed himself off of the leather recliner and pulled open the door, half expecting an assassin.

"Hello Captain." Nic Fury stood outside of his door a flat device in his hand. "I have a mission for you." Without waiting he invited himself in.

Steve, ever the gentleman, ignored Fury's lack of manners, "Please have a seat." He motioned to the chair he had just vacated.

"This isn't a social call." No one would ever accuse Fury of indulging in small talk, "One of my agents has been compromised. She has spent far too long in the field and has lost her grip on reality." Fury handed him the tablet, "She believes that she is on assignment to help bring you up to speed on modern life. I don't think you need help, you figured out Hydra Technology fairly quickly, a computer and espresso maker shouldn't be too difficult."

"Sir, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to bring her back to reality. I'm not sure myself what is and isn't real."

"Believe me Captain you are the most qualified person to bring her down to earth." Fury's phone chirped, "I have to be going. Read up on her history and your cover story. She'll be here in a few hours. In the meantime her belongings have just arrived and I need to leave." In the blink of an eye and a swish of his coat the Director was gone.

Steve stood staring at the door slightly shocked and confused. Some girl was going to be living here? He didn't get long to ponder this new development before the door opened and several men and women dressed as movers trapped through his living room and into his spare room. Only S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would be so brazen.

Knowing that trying to argue with them would be pointless, Steve resigned back to his chair and read through the spotty and poorly detailed file on his new room mate. Dropped out of high school and legally emancipated at sixteen, joined shield at seventeen and has been fighting organized crime ever since. Not much was said about her personally just a bunch of facts and statistics on her cases. She seemed to almost always pull off her missions. She usually spared 'innocents' what ever that meant.

The movers left almost as quickly and wordlessly as they arrived. Had he been lost in the world of Jim and Silver he would have missed their departure completely. As he was only reading the dry report he thankfully tore his eyes away from the screen and nodded at the last agent.

From his seat facing the front door he could see a few changes to his living room; pictures of frozen wastelands and sunny oasis, a potted plant, knickknacks on the mantle, and a soft suede chair facing him. Steve decided that an inspection of his home was necessary.

The bathroom had a new blue rug and shower curtain. A wire basket hung from the shower head holding an assortment of soaps and creams. A basket on the counter had just as many bottles and tubes and his medical cabinet had been overtaken by three different types of mouth wash, more creams, and a full first aid kit.

The kitchen was, thankfully, mostly undisturbed. A few new pots a pans, more plates and a vase of flowers were most obvious. The freezer had been loaded up with pizzas and vegetables and the fridge had an extra gallon of milk and more eggs.

Steve was not one to go snooping through a woman's drawers, but there was nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity, right? If she had changed this much of the common space what would her room look like? He nudged her door open and scanned the room. He expected to find regulation clothes, all black pant suits and polished heels. A sharp black or metal desk with a sturdy functional chair would not have been a surprise. And a cot with perfectly flat sheets and army tight corners was definitely within the range of acceptable for an agent.

What he didn't expect were soft neutral colored pants and shirts with a thousand bright colored accessories. An entire rack in the closet was dedicated to shirts with pictures on the fronts. The desk was metal, but the silver was embedded with gemstones and swirls of glitter. And her queen sized bed had enough pillows and throws to host a battalion sleepover. The maroon canopy and curtains fluttered in the soft autumn wind.

A sharp smell accosted his nose and he noticed that his once beige walls were light blue with bright red trim around the windows and doors. The agents had painted the walls of his apartment. He exhaled sharply. Well he could always repaint when she moved out.

However he was not going to deal with the smell of fresh paint (no matter how quickly it dried these days) any longer than he had to. He fetched the revolving fan from the kitchen and stuck it in the doorway of her room to blow the stench out the window.

He had just plugged it in and was pressing buttons trying to figure which one made it turn half circles when he heard a throat clear behind him. He spun around, his fist swinging out at the noise.

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Oh no! Who has snuck into his house? Will he hurt them?

I can't wait for next week!

Don't forget to review!


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note:

Hello fellow fangirls and fanboys!

My sincerest apologies for posting so late. My daughter was sick and needed some serious TLC. If anyone of you discover a cure for the common cold you'll make millions.

Fortunately our dear captain cannot catch cold so he could wait a week or so. Unfortunately i do not own Captain America, his superior healing powers, or anything else affiliated with the marvel universe. I also do not own anything that Elda is a fan of, including but not limited to Doctor Who.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I do enjoy hearing from you all. I do have time, now that the illness is over, to start another story. I have one in the world of Narnia. But I am open minded to a lot of fandoms. So if there is a story that you are particularly interested in reading, let me know and I'll see what I can do. I can pair almost anyone. Please PM me for ideas.

In the mean time let us return to Steve and Elda. I believe he was about to punch some one. •

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"Woah!" A young woman jumped back and raised her hands in defence of the flying fist. Her face was hardened in concentration. She looked quite different from her official S.H.I.E.L.D. identification photo but she was still recognizeable as Agent Griselda Wentworth.

"Captain Rogers?" Her eyebrow raised and she ran a hand through her short and spikey red, yellow, and black hair, "Is there a reason you're in my bedroom?" She should have looked startled at having a fist swung at her face or even angry at having her privacy invaded, but her pale lips were quirked in a grin and her blue eyes seemed to laugh at him as she relaxed her stance.

"Um, I was just, uh," He blushed slightly feeling like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Your room was painted..." He dropped his hands and searched for a way to explain himself.

"They painted your apartment?" She glared at the decore, "And apparently saw fit to move my belongings here. They have no sense of privacy and personal space. Mindless worker bees, the lot of them." She stepped around Steve through the door.

While she entered her room and pushed the window wider Steve took the opportunity to get a better look at her. She was pretty in a fierce way but that could have been attributed to her having hair like fire. Her posture was perfect and she carried herself with purpose. Her jeans and graphic tee gave her a casual appearance that softened the sharpness that she radiated.

"What is so important about a police box?" He gestured to the swirl of color on her shirt.

She looked down at her shirt and sneered at him. "Staring at my chest, Sleeping Beauty?" His face warmed in a blush, "It's a TARDIS. You know from Doctor Who...?" He shrugged and she rolled her eyes, "Alright, grandpa, you're telling me you've never heard of Doctor Who? The TV show?"

He shuffled under her condescension, "I haven't really gotten a chance to watch much television and what I have watched doesn't intrest me." He tried to shrug indifferently, "It seems to distract people from reality."

She smiled almost to herself, "That's kind of the point; not having to deal with our own issues. We don't have to think about how horrible reality is. TV shows and movies have happy endings. Life doesn't always." Her eyes seemed to droop and her shoulders sagged under an apparent bought of depression.

Steve stared at her. She was right and more than that she seemed to have a solid grip on her sanity.

"What?!" She snapped at him. He had accidentally thought out loud. "Why on earth would you think I'm crazy?" She glared up at him, "I'll have you know, Captain, that I am the most sane person you will ever meet."

He stepped back from her and lifted his arms in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, hoping to explain, but the door slammed in his face.

"Agent Wentworth?" Steve knocked on her door gently a few hours later. A grunt on the other side was his only answer so he pushed the door open, slowly. "Agent Wentworth, I was going to go get a burger. Would you like to go along?"

She was curled up on a large conforming cushion with an old leatherbound book in her lap. The smell of paint had mostly disapated and was replaced with a faint vanilla and mint. At the mention of food she dropped the book to the desk and straighten up. "Are we walking or driving?"

"I haven't seen much of the modern New York, how about we drive?" He would have prefered his motorcycle but she seemed like the type of girl who would hate sharing a seat.

"Sounds good. We'll take my car." She snatched a set of keys out of a fishbowl, grabbed his arm and started to drag him out the door and down to the parking garage.

She dropped his hand just inside the garage and turned to face him. "I owe you an apology for shouting and slamming your door." She lifted her hand to silence his protest. "I'm sure to someone as straight laced as you, my fashion and choices of decorations are wild and crazy. You probably thought that you were getting a lunatic. Please accept my explanation and forgive me."

Her big eyes pleaded with him with such sorrow that he couldn't help but nod. "There is no need to be sorry ma'am. Let's forget it ever happened." His graciousness was rewarded with the young woman's bright smile. Agent Wentworth turned away from him and nearly bounced through the garage.

"There she is." She pressed a button on her remote and a large black sedan roared to life. "2007 Cadillac. They don't normally have remote starters but Nic owed me a favor" She explained before he could ask. "She's pretty but not stuck up and she has a great personality." She motioned for him to sit 'shotgun'.

The interior was as different as the interior as possible. Purple seats were covered with red lace. All of the metal pieces were gold and the leather stearing wheel, arm rests, and panelling were blue with silver glitter. If the colors had been bright Steve would have become dizzy. But as the colors were dark jewel tones, he felt as if he had entered a palace. The seats were incredibly comfortable and soft symphony music played from the green glowing radio.

She had obviously put a lot of work into her vehicle. No wonder she was proud of it. She probably thought of it as a friend. "You talk as if it's a person." The words were out before he could stop them, he inwardly cringed at his implication that she was confusing reality and fiction.

He glanced at her but she was smiling and patting the dashboard, "If you treat your car like a baby, she'll take care of you for a long time. I even named her to help me remember to care for her. Snow White, meet the Magic Carpet." She buckled her seatbelt and pushed the car into gear. "So, where do you wanna get those burgers?"

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AN Well things seem to be going smoothly so far. Don't they? Don't forget to review.


	7. Chapter 7

"How long did you have to sell war bonds before you actually started fighting bad guys?" Elda slurped her milkshake. The captain has chosen a small burger place in the older part of New York. It was a cute little hole in the wall off the beaten path and as is common in mom and pop shops the service was warm and friendly.

The Captain shrugged, "About six or seven months. I was good at it but I really hated it. I felt like a dancing monkey and I looked ridiculous in those tight pants and mask."

"I'm sure you back up dancers didn't mind." She grinned across the table at him, "How often did you get hit on? Were women that forward back then?"

"Yes ma'am." His ears turned red and he ducked his head, "I actually got caught kissing a secretary in one of the war rooms."

"Really?" Elda's interest was peaked, "That wasn't in your file."

"Neither was one of the corporals showing me his back side." His face glowed red.

She definitely wasn't expecting that. "What?" She choked around her fries, "Was he being cute or did you ask him to turn his head and cough?"

His blush seemed to spread up to his hairline, "No. Nothing like that. He was stationed at one of the camps near the front lines and he asked me to autograph... it."

Elda burst into laughter, drawing the attention of the waitresses and several patrons, "You're joking!" When she had finally regained her breathe she leaned in "Did you sign it?" She inquired conspiritoraly.

"No!" He half shouted, obviously scandalized.

Elda laughed again. "I would have tattooed it on his right cheek." Making the sweet Captain blush was so fun and too easy to resist. "Is that when you decided to go all superhero?"

He nodded, "A good friend told me that I was meant for more than being a lab rat or dancing monkey." His eyes seemed to sadden and he almost seemed forced to smile, "I knew then that I had been selected because I had the heart and mindset to help those who couldn't help them selves."

Elda's heart felt like it was too small for its cage. "Was that friend Agent Carter?" He opened his mouth, "She is mentioned quite often in your file and I can read between the lines." A tear threatened to escape her lashes, "I know what it's like to lose someone special." She cleared her throat and shrugged off the sadness. "What was the best part of being the human version of superman?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners, "The food." She tilted her head in questioning surprise. "I was served steak and pie about twice a week. That was huge because of the rationing."

"Steak and pie are still luxuries for most people." Elda waved for the bill. "At least

half the planet survives on rice or beans. They couldn't afford a steak dinner if they saved every penny for a year" she laughed without mirth, "And we complain about burgers getting smaller at McDonald's."

"Is that what you do?" The Captain took the bill from the waitress and dug in his wallet for a couple of twenties. "You feed starving people?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Your file didn't disclose a lot about what kind of missions except you deal with a lot of children and you've set up several orphanages around the world." He stared earnestly into her eyes, "In all honesty, that doesn't seem like a S.H.I.E.L.D. priority, why do you get to do that instead of fighting spies and building weapons?"

Elda pressed her lips together, she didn't like talking about her work, she knew that she got too passionate about it. "I would like to go back, I'm tired. It's been a long couple of days and hospital beds aren't very comfortable." She stood up and pulled on her jacket that she had had in her car. "I'll bring the car around."

"Ma'am I didn't mean to..."

"Listen Captain Rogers," she half shouted, ignoring the stares, "We aren't buddies, we aren't lovers, and we aren't confidants. I am only here because I got injured and Fury wants to keep an eye on me. If I had my way you would have to figure out how to operate your tv on your own." Her eyes flashed, "Do not try to chum up to me."

The drive back to The Captain's apartment (she would probably not live there long enough to ever call it hers) was quiet. Captain Rogers stared out the side window, and Elda was lost in thoughts about how surprising alike his and her beliefs and thoughts were. He was a good man; polite, sincere, tactful, and big-hearted. Nothing like the vain, pumped up, show off she was expecting. She shouldn't have yelled at him, but if something says confidential he shouldn't be asking questions.

The living room light was on, Elda could see it from the street, she knew she had turned it off before they left. She flew into her parking spot and ran up the stairs, grateful that the local anesthesia was still potent in her leg, the Captain following close behind her. Just outside the door to his apartment she stopped and pulled a gun out from under her armpit and pointed it at the door. She lifted a finger to her lip to keep the Captain quiet.

Turning the knob and ramming against the door at the same time, Elda entered the room. The gun was aimed with perfect accuracy at Nic Fury.

"Director!" She stepped back almost running into Captain Rogers. "What are you doing here sir?"

His face was solemn, "Elda, perhaps you should sit down."

The world seemed to pause mid turn, he never called her by her given name, especially the shortened version. "If it's all the same to you sir I'd rather stand." Realizing that she still had him at gunpoint, she holstered her weapon and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Agent Wentworth, two days ago Tony Stark demonstrated his Jericho weapon in a confidential location." The room started to tilt and Elda grabbed Captain Rogers' elbow, "His convoy was attacked" Her knees began to shake and her vision tunneled. Fury was saying something but she couldn't focus on his words.

"Agent Wentworth!" Fury grabbed her shoulders and shook her, " Look at me!" She tried to bring him into focus, "We didn't find Mr. Stark's body." Her mouth opened and closed several times but she couldn't find the words to ask her questions. "Griselda, we need you to come to base one as an analyst. Your the only person who knows how to find your father."


End file.
